Swirling leaves in air, encrusted in snow,
Gardens are frozen, as howling winds blow.
Autumn’s delight, a fragmented past,
Golden hues dissipate, into a season of last.
Summer’s light, now brings early dark,
Gone are the lyrics of the passing lark.
Now bundled up, some mittens lost,
No longer is green, a fade to frost.
©D.G. Kaye – 2013